


Stuck

by hesonlytiny



Category: coldrain (Japan Band)
Genre: Banter, Feel-good, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Gay Crush, Happy Ending, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pining, Trapped In Elevator, homosexual awakening lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesonlytiny/pseuds/hesonlytiny
Summary: “Are you … trying to flirt with me?”“Yes … and no.”...“I’m not trying to, that is.”
Relationships: Masato (coldrain)/Colin Morgan
Kudos: 2





	Stuck

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it’s me again. With the same ship. I guess you’ll have to deal with that :) It’s a short, sweet one. No, I can’t let it rest.
> 
> But I’ve thought about finishing the King series (if anyone’s still interested), so we’ll see!
> 
> Below you’ll again find some pictures to refresh your memories in case you’ve forgotten how those lovely dudes look like, lol. Cheers!
> 
> (Disclaimer: not a native speaker. Please excuse and/or correct)
> 
> [Colin Morgan](https://ibb.co/MRxgZSJ) [2](https://ibb.co/m4XMkkX)  
> [Masato 1](https://ibb.co/D8BN171) [2](https://ibb.co/ZW6fzJS) [3](https://ibb.co/HPJTsCJ)

It was already some moments after midnight when I decided to go for a stroll in this early summer’s weak moonlight. Maybe go check up on the goods at the closest _konbini_ first.

It had been a series of slow and ungrateful days. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy my days off, but such a stark contrast to the busy and socially active work days was bound to confuse your psyche. I knew that my body had yearned for some peace and quiet and even though I felt a bit lonely, I knew that it was ultimately good for my soul.

It was this awkward stage between having finished recording the new album and rehearsing for the upcoming tour. And I’d spend most of those nights outside, breathing in the still pleasantly chilly night air to forget the ache in my head.

After having entered the elevator, I assumed my usual spot next to the buttons and leaned against the wall. Pressed first floor. Waited till the doors closed. Glanced inside the mirror opposite of me.

God, I looked so worn out. Good thing no one besides me would notice, anyway. My black beanie covered half of my tousled bleached and toned hair, and a black mask half of my face. Only the dark circles beneath my tired eyes were a foolproof indicator of what was really going on. But here, people usually didn’t look you in the face. Especially not so late at night. I’d get a few snacks, maybe a coke, and walk through the neighbourhood–

Suddenly the elevator stopped a tad too soon and it took me a while to realise that someone else in this building had to have a similar idea. As the doors opened, I only glanced at the person in passing. Actually, I wasn’t that interested in seeing anyone, so I didn’t care about them anyway, but stepping in was a man I’d never before seen in this complex. Granted, not quite astonishing seeing that the building itself was rather big, but said guy obviously didn’t seem to be … local.

As the doors closed behind him, he pressed one of the buttons and nodded to me in a set phrase manner; acknowledging my presence. He was quite a bit taller than me and his black curly ruffled hair made me want to take back the comment about whatever state I thought _my_ hair was in. He was neither wearing a mask, nor some sort of hat and his sweatshirt seemed to be a tad too cosy for this time of year.

But before I could take an even closer look at this guy, the elevator suddenly stuttered and with a clunk it stopped in its tracks. I was insanely caught by surprise, had to have been too deep lost in my thoughts about that man, funnily enough, so that my heart dropped at the unfamiliar happening and a hot shiver creeped down my neck. Then it got cold. I instinctively tried to hold onto anything I could reach – which was of course plain useless, so to say.

But now the elevator didn’t do a single thing anymore. And suddenly we were stuck.

“Fuck,” I heard him blurt out in horror and saw him spontaneously lose his entire skin colour all at once. Not that he’d had a lot to begin with. He was obviously English speaking, though I could not quite guess where he was from exactly. His darting looks, however, spoke of mild discomfort, to say the least. And I wasn’t entirely sure whether that came from being stuck or being stuck _here with me_.

“Don’t worry,” I tried to reassure him as calmly as I could possibly manage, “they listen to the emergency calls 24/7. Let me do that.”

I didn’t look at him before I turned around to face the speaker and pressed the button in hopes of hearing anybody really on the other side. The guy remained silent, maybe not an English speaker after all, but at least the operator did answer, much to my relief.

“Good evening. Erm, it seems like I am stuck here in the elevator on the 3rd floor maybe? It won’t move anymore. We’re two people in here,” I explained in my most calm, slightly polite Japanese. I might have misheard, but I could swear the guy’d gasped suddenly hearing me speak Japanese.

“I understand. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience. We’ll be there as soon as we can but I’m afraid it may still take some time, Sir. In the meantime, remain calm and do not try anything.”

I let the operator know I’d understood and shuffled around to again face the other person. I’d heard that mechanics in other countries sometimes try to let you fix the problem by yourself, giving you instructions. That way, the mechanics don’t have to leave their office and the people in the elevator get out faster. Unfortunately, this was not the way of Japan.

“What did he say?” The guy faced me with somewhat of a nervous laugh, if that was the way to describe it. His glances were fleeting, as though he couldn’t quite decide if it was worth looking me in the eye. I shrugged and removed my face mask. I wasn’t sick, I was just sick of being so _sick and tired_.

“They … heard our S.O.S call. They’ll be here in a few … Scratch that and make that a lot,” I giggled in a hushed voice. “They try to please you, but it takes some time due to traffic.”

“Well, that’s awkward then,” he mumbled under his breath and rubbed his hands over his face before letting himself drop to the floor. I didn’t quite know what to do or say.

“I’m Colin by the way,” he said, this time a bit clearer, and he even looked me in the eye while extending his hand for me to shake. The angle, however, was a bit awkward too, and so I joined him on the floor before I shook it. “Might as well get to know each other if we’re stuck here for half an eternity.”

“No one said anything about an eternity,” I joked and gave him my name as well, Masato Hayakawa and all.

Sitting like this on the floor, each of us with the opposite wall behind their back, legs awkwardly stretched out next to one another, feet almost touching the wall the other had occupied, made me wish I wouldn’t have sat quite as close.

“So, you’re … a broker?”

“What?” I echoed confused, laughing, “What even makes you think that?”

“You look fancy,” he explained a bit more confident this time. Something had changed, even if I didn’t yet know what. “You look like how I’d imagine a broker looks like.”

“Jesus.” Now I was the one to run my hands through my face. “You’re not real.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he chuckled with his low voice and for the first time during this encounter, I could actually focus on his accent. His words came out slurred, in such a way that his tongue sounded heavy. Sometimes they were hard for me to understand, but it sure as hell made him seem interesting. “I meant to say … you look good. That suits you.”

“If brokers are your kinda deal …” I tried to go with his flow but in reality I was taken slightly aback by his straightforward nature. Yes, there were indeed different cultures at play, but English and Japanese were so unlike each other, too. Normally, you’d only compliment other people on their skills, on superficial things, really. And you were supposed to downplay it as well; ‘no, no! I’m really not that good at all.’ In English, however … that was quite a different thing. When was it you’re supposed to compliment someone? I suddenly hated the fact that I could not tell whether he had honestly meant it or not.

Colin nodded in understanding; lips clenched in a somewhat friendly smile.

No one looked good in an elevator’s bright, neon lights, frankly said. I knew I looked like death, observing myself in the small mirror. But for some reason he managed to appear as unfazed by it as grass by rain. And, honestly, I looked _terrifying_. Looking at myself looking like that, I was suddenly afraid my reflection would come to life and want to murder Colin right then and there.

“I’m sorry if I’m too straightforward but … I take it that you’re American?”

I muffled a pained laugh in hopes of concealing my true feelings regarding this particular question. I knew that he had meant no harm, however. Hardly anyone ever did, of course. I cleared my throat. “Yes and no, I guess …”

I watched him raise one eyebrow in confusion and finally saw the penny drop little by little. “I’m half American, half Japanese. But I’ve been raised here, so …”

Colin nodded. When he bit his lips like that, dimples appeared on his lower cheeks. He looked at the ground, by this time having pulled up his legs in order to hug and hold them in place; the sleeves of his sweat shirt rolled up showed off his underarms. He wasn’t awkward by any means, that wasn’t it. I just couldn’t put my finger on why he’d suddenly changed persona so quickly.

“It’s just, your accent …” he tried to justify but I didn’t take any further offence, it was fair enough, really.

“So, you’re here for work?”

He paused, letting my question roll over his tongue deliberately. His dark lashes cast a deep shadow onto his cheeks. “I could be,” he answered then but his eyes still wouldn’t meet mine fully. “But the truth is: I met someone here. I don’t live in Japan and I don’t intend to. Coincidentally, I just know someone living in this building.”

Now it was my turn to nod. We were running out of questions to ask and there was no way we could establish a comfortable conversation. It didn’t feel like it …

“You could be?”

“I’m an actor; I’ve had offers here before.”

I honestly didn’t want to get into details about my profession, so I again just nodded off his statement and wished the mechanic would finally turn up. Something about that guy, or just our interaction in general, felt off. It was tensed up. Awkward. And I couldn’t at all grasp why.

“I have to admit that you looked odd with your mask on at first, but your nose is really pretty.”

“My nose?” I laughed in response, because I didn’t know what else to do. So silly to say it like that …

“It gives you character,” he explained further, even if it happened to make me slightly more uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t hide it.”

“Like this?” I asked and pulled up my black mask again; hiding my chin, mouth and nose; watching his face screw up in the process. I grinned. It made it a bit easier. I was sure he didn’t intend to let it sound creepy, but it kinda got across that way.

“Such a pity, you’re so handsome.”

“You know that there’s a purpose for these masks, right? That I’m not _hiding_ just because?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, almost as though he didn’t care in the end after all. “I’m just saying that … you’re pretty.”

What a weird guy that was. He didn’t care about embarrassing himself in the slightest. He just said what was right on his tongue; without thinking about it for a second. He simply did not care. He was honest; authentic. It was kind of fascinating, really. But refreshing in a good way.

“Are you … trying to flirt with me?”

I just had to ask. I couldn’t stop those words rolling right off my lips. I’d been wondering since the moment he’d first opened his mouth in this elevator. My skin tingled; everywhere. Maybe, just maybe … I wished he did.

“Yes … and no.”

I waited a bit in order to let him finish his sentence. But he never did, so it was my turn to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“I’m not trying to, that is.”

Oh God. I hadn’t expected _that_ kind of response. Honestly? I’d been kidding. Sort of. Or rather … I hadn’t wanted to hear those words. But now that they were here … what exactly was I supposed to say? He’d absolutely thrown me off balance.

By this time, I’d already pulled down my mask again. I wasn’t sure how I came across, but I sure as hell felt like a little lost boy for a moment. Cold ground beneath me, fingers playing with the hem of my pants, hesitant eyes wandering across the tiny compartment. I didn’t know what to say.

“Hey,” he nudged one of my feet with one of his to get my attention. When I glanced up, he was sporting a diplomatic, almost apologetic look. For a moment I wondered how someone with such deep brown, almost black, coloured hair could possess rainy blue eyes like those. They were piercing. They hurt. I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry if that was a bit too bold. Don’t worry if you’re not interested. I’ll just shut up.”

“I–” I interrupted myself gingerly because I realised I actually still didn’t know what to say at all while my tongue had acted on its own. Bummer.

Had that ever happened to me? Ever? Even with a woman? I could not recall. Sure, there was the occasional groupie here and there, making explicit offers. I knew what they all wanted, they didn’t even need to vocalise it. But this was different. He didn’t know who I was.

“Have you ever … kissed a guy?”

“Me? No!” I said, realising it had to have sounded weird in that context. I wasn’t against it. I had just never thought about it thoroughly. Why would I? Never had to. But suddenly I questioned my whole existence only by looking at that guy.

“You know that I’m _technically_ obliged to ask: ‘then how would you know if you like it?’, right?”

“I never wanted to before, that’s been reason enough for me …”

What kind of weird ass conversation was that, anyway? With a random foreigner inside a stuck elevator, talking about homosexual tendencies out of the blue?

“I thought you wanted to shut up?”

Colin then laughed again, this time fully with his eyes closed, but his slightly open mouth only revealed his straight, white teeth. Yeah, he was kinda pretty, or _interesting_ looking, for that matter. He had to have thousands of offers at his fingertips. That he was going for me only told me that he was insatiable or at least never satisfied and that really wasn’t a good look on him.

“You’re right, of course,” he looked at me sheepishly from under his dark eyelashes; a nonchalant smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It was worth a shot, though.”

My heart raced for miles. I didn’t even know why. He made me so nervous … but this somewhat angsty feeling of uneasiness I’d felt before was entirely gone. Replaced. The idea of him being into me didn’t disturb me, it didn’t _bother_ me … I didn’t know if I wanted it, but I certainly did not _not_ want it.

I’d always said that I wasn’t gay. I was not. Surely being into a guy liking you didn’t make you full-on _gay_ all of a sudden …

“So,” I cleared my throat uncomfortably just to say something, anything, “you’re an actor? What do you do?”

“Well, obviously, acting …” he started to explain but I could see in his face that he was about to continue; albeit currently thinking. Maybe he’d talked himself out of adding a ‘duh’ at the end of his drawn out sentence. “I wouldn’t say I’m immensely popular …but I do act in films, telly shows and in plays.”

I nodded slowly, happy about the new distraction this conversation opportunity offered, even though I wasn’t quite sure about the validity of its contents. Just the way he dragged it all out, speaking slowly so as to not accidentally say a wrong word.

“I see. How’d you get into it?”

Colin shrugged. For the first time this night I noted how the shape of his muscled chest stood out from under his subtly tight sweatshirt. He seemed lanky when you initially stood facing him. He was indeed tall, yes, but lanky? Not so much after all.

“Always been into it, really. Started off with plays in school. Turned out I wasn’t that bad at it.”

“How about acting in one of our videos then?”

Oh shit.

Oh shit. I didn’t mean to say that.

“Your … videos?”

I sighed and pressed the back of my right hand against my forehead. “You act, I sing.”

“Oh, so you’re a singer?” he laughed enthusiastically, lazily pointing a finger at me. “I knew it. You look it!”

“I thought I looked like a broker?” I amusedly chimed in, though hesitantly, and shook my head. “I’m a vocalist, yes. I’ve got a band.”

“What’re you guys called?”

Again, I shook my head no. Resisted the urge to cross my arms against my chest for special effects’ purpose. I honestly wasn’t about to tell him. “Over my dead body.”

“Don’t make me. You know you can’t run.”

This time I shrugged and I watched it rattle inside his head. Forehead all scrunched up, eyebrows raised and lips clenched. Wondering what he was about to retort, I let my foot touch his challengingly; curiously. Then he pulled out his phone and began typing.

“Masato Hayakawa you said,” he mused but when I finally realised what he was about to do, I had rushed forward impulsively but he’d already seen the Google results. Damn it. I should have known.

“Very flattering first picture,” he chuckled, I rolled my eyes, already knowing which photo he’d meant. “Coldrain, huh?”

“It’s really not that big ‘a deal,” I tried to play it down but he just looked at me with some kind of bottle-empty face that made me sure that he knew. I sighed defeated and tried to relax against the opposite wall again. At this point in time I didn’t understand why I didn’t feel comfortable in him knowing about it.

“I promise you I’ll only check out your music videos later.”

It took him a moment, but then there was this snotty smirk playing about his lips again. Then he nudged my foot for a change, pointing at his broad neck.

“I see rock stars still rock tattoos, though.”

I nodded and pushed the sleeves of my shirt upwards to reveal the coloured one on my forearm. “Seems like it.”

Somehow I liked being called like that … by him. The way he slurred his words was irrationally alluring; almost hypnotically so. But I’d somehow already grown accustomed to his thick accent.

Silence.

I saw it in his eyes, subtly trying to avoid mine, that he was still contemplating about pushing me further. Yeah, it was obvious that he seemed to be interested in me, not only because he’d basically said so himself. And he was mature enough not to start bothering me about it a second time. But as I became aware that I was playing with my fingers again, something I did when I was nervous, I realised that I actually ached for redirecting the conversation back to the beginning. To when he _did not_ _try_ to flirt with me. I wondered if he would have asked me for my number. I wondered if I would have moved just the tiniest bit closer to him. I wondered how he smelled at the nape of his neck …

“I honestly don’t wanna be _that_ guy but …” He was unsure himself, I could see it. But my eyes searched his and I swear they screamed for him to finish that God damn sentence. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. You look as if–”

“Yes!”

“What?”

As I then rushed forward again, this time not to interrupt him, I saw this tiny smile of his reappear on his lips. Mere inches apart. He smelled faintly of aftershave. I swallowed nervously and still couldn’t bring myself to finally close this gap between us. One hand on the ground, one awkwardly on his shoulder. One of his playing with my hair at the back of my head beneath my black beanie. The tension was overwhelming but he obviously wanted me to make the first step. I swallowed hard.

I wanted it so much. My heart wouldn’t stop racing. I–

“Is anybody in there?” A voice at the other end of the elevator door called in Japanese. I felt my heart sink as I let myself sink to the floor simultaneously; trying to relax my beating heart.

Jesus. Did that guy bewitch me?

I looked at him with nervous eyes. Wondering eyes. Perplexed ones. At a loss for words. But he understood and slowly closed the gap between us, pecking me on the lips. Short. A second. A blink of an eye. An inhale. I had subconsciously stopped breathing.

“I’ll give you my number, okay?”


End file.
